Worth It
by Lacuna Miyamoto
Summary: Dean seizes an opportunity. It involves a large cephalopod and guns. As usual.


Worth it

Dean seizes an opportunity.

* * *

"Dean, no." Sam hisses. It's fast and nervous and right in Dean's face. Dean doesn't give a shit. The water, the lake, it's boiling now, and Dean has a very small window of opportunity. This is a once in life time chance. So help him God, he is going to do this or die trying.

Dean starts to back away from Sam, grinning so wide that the moon makes his teeth glow. Sam sets his jaw, but doesn't make any further moves. He tried to talk Dean out of it and had, like 99% of the time, failed. So instead of wasting anymore air on a tenth attempt, he just stood there, arms crossed and watched Dean amble up to the edge of the lake.

The waves were yards high by now. Seething and rushing and they can HEAR it. Dean is still grinning and Sam snatches his -get this- fucking elephant gun off of the ground, with bullets the size of his fists dipped in some obscure, ancient Greek poison. If this didn't work, this little stunt would have Dean's head on a fucking pike, mounted on the castle walls as a warning for all the stupid jackasses everywhere.

As Sam settles the huge double barreled rifle against his shoulder and aims the gun out over the lake, he watches Dean out of the corner of his eye.

And DEAN, he's standing at the edge of the water, wet up to his thighs, his own rifle dangling from one hand. He raises his arms up into the air and tilts his head back. He makes this huge show of inhaling. Dean want's this PERFECT.

"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!" he bellows, louder than he's ever bellowed before. And sure, under the roar of the water, you can barely hear him, but it is perfect, picture perfect. Hollywood perfect as the kraken surges upward, covered in a white blanket of boiling water that rolls of him.

Dean just barely avoids the tentacle slashing downwards and smashing into the gravel. It's a 'by a hair' miss. But Sam is there, ready and willing, with his rifle dead on. It tears through the appendage, severing it, a little less than cleanly. Almost instantly, it begins to ashen, to crumble. The disintegration takes the whole thing in the time it takes for Dean get his own gun into his shoulder, but it fades and stops until it's just this little stump crumbling pieces into the frothy water.

Dean sends Sam a thumbs up. Sam sends him the finger. A second tentacle sweeps for them. Right. Kraken. Twenty fucking arms and this jaw, this abyss filled with more teeth than they've ever seen before. What the fuck is it doing in lake Huron? And the answer is simple. Eating people. Eating boats. Okay, speed boats, but hey. This thing might not be as big as it's mother, somewhere down in the Mariana Trench, but it's big enough. And they can't waste all their bullets on the tentacles, either. They have to get in close.

Fucking brilliant.

So they nod at each other and start sprinting away from the water. It isn't hard to draw it closer to land—it's fucking pissed. By now ten, twelve tentacles are whipping through the air, snaking after them, snatching at them. Trees, unfortunate enough to grow close to the water are torn up at the roots and tossed around.

"Remember the end of Deep Rising?" Dean pants, coming up along side of Sam, "this is like that."

"Not really," Sam snorts grimly, jumping down into the foxhole they dug earlier. Dean sends him a disappointed look and runs on past. And the beast, heaving and slimy and near formless out of water, surges after Dean. It's agonizing and every fraction of a second he waits, the thing could snatch Dean up and toss him popcorn-esque into it's mouth. But he waits, because if he misses, he sure as hell won't have time to reload.

Angling the gun straight up and bracing it against the ground, Sam slumps down so he can see the underbelly of the beast. Then; there it is, a red mark, like a star, that marks dead center of the creature.

Sam pulled the trigger.

If all the guts and blood and 'OH MY GOD I hope that's not what I think it is!', weren't bad enough, all the crumbling ash or whatever it was had to go somewhere and, in accordance to gravity, it went down. He's up to his hips in it. When Sam stops making disgusted faces at all the ash and guts laying around, he looks up and Dean is standing there, hands on his hips and smirking.

"You look like you were tarred and feathered, little brother." So Sam grabs Dean's ankles and pulls, jerking him less than gently into the pit with him. He disappears under the stuff and when he comes up, he spits out a mouthful of lumpy, pasty grey ash. He dry heaves a few more times, but when he stops, he's smiling.

"Worth it." He grins. Sam almost grins back, and after a moment, he does. Then he gets out of the foxhole and looks around for the first time.

Dean whistles behind him. The poison killed and "cleared away" a good portion of the Kraken, but one accusing eyeball the size of a VW Beetle was staring at them, and tentacles were snaked along the ground, wrapped around trees, curled and some even still twitching. The smallest bit of tentacle is twice as long as Sam.

"So worth it."

Sam just rolls his eyes and goes off to get the shovels.

It's easily seven in the morning by the time the last of the kraken is safely tucked away in various graves among the trees or weighted down with rocks and sunk ten meters off shore (thank god the speed boat hadn't been ruined).

When they get back to the motel, they've been awake about 28 hours. They're exhausted, they stink and when they sneeze, it's all black from the ash. They take turns showering. Dean goes first and ten minutes later, it's Sam's turn.

He's out ten minutes later, too. Dean is already in bed, too tired to keep his eyes open.

"Still worth it." He assures Sam.

And he's asleep.

* * *

This was actually part of a bigger story I had planned, but like 90% of all my stories, I'll probably never get around to writing it. I might expand on it later, because I have this conversation lined up about succubi that really needs to happen.


End file.
